Impressions
by Alathea2
Summary: Praxus lies in ruins, thousands of lives extinguished in mere joors, and the mech responsible for masterminding the slaughter is now in Autobot custody. How Optimus chooses to deal with this prisoner will affect the course of the war if not the fate of Cybertron itself. A "Turning Points" story


_This is the first of an undetermined number of side-stories related to my other fic __**Turning Points.**__ I have tried to write it in such a way that it could be a stand-alone story, but it will definitely have more context if you have read __**Turning Points.**_

* * *

_**This story takes place during the events of chapter 3 & 4 of "Turning Points."**_

Optimus stepped into the hangar as the armored troop transports started disgorging their cargo. The medical transports were just finishing up, though that was not saying as much as it should have as only two of the twelve transports sent had actually been needed to evacuate the survivors of Praxus. There just had not been that many survivors to transport. Precious few lives: only nine living individuals had been recovered.

The Prime's spark ached terribly at the great loss. It was almost too much to process and it made him want to keen with pain and grief but also with anger and fury at his brother. How could the Lord Protector of Cybertron, sworn to _protect_ the lives of their people, condone and order a senseless slaughter such as this?

There were no answers, no more than there ever had been the countless times he had already asked himself that question.

Optimus shook his helm, his spark clinging to the steadying presence of the Matrix to keep himself from spiraling into the melancholy that threatened, and instead looked around for the mech he knew would be there.

He found Jazz standing to the side, also watching the proceedings, the minibot's thoughts hidden behind his enigmatic visor. Even so, Optimus could feel the anger, grief and stunned horror all but rolling off the minibot's silver shoulders in a mirror of his own internal angst.

"Hey ya, Boss 'Bot," Jazz murmured, his voice subdued.

"Jazz." Optimus returned the greeting with equal sobriety.

Jazz looked up at him, offering a very weak smile. "They found Smokey. He's alive and stable. They already got him off about two breems ago."

Optimus nodded, glad for at least that bit of good news, even if it was infinitesimally small compared to the amount of lives lost. Each life was precious. Even so: "That is good."

Jazz gave him a look that was almost physically felt, even through the visor that masked it. "Not enough. Ya know that. The whole city…"

Optimus reached out and touched Jazz's shoulder briefly as the smaller frame vibrated with pain and fury. He offered comfort even though he felt his own spark clench. "I know."

The optics behind that visor flashed as Jazz met his gaze again. "They caught one of 'em. Ironhide's team found one crawling outta tha rubble." He pointed to one of the troop transports. "They'll be coming off that ship once all the other mechs are off."

Optimus nodded, having also received Ironhide's comm. He wondered briefly why the Decepticon was not on a medical ship with a guard, but if the mech was who they suspected he was, the question was not that difficult to answer. No medic would want him on their ship unless absolutely necessary.

His engine rumbled darkly as he recalled his weapons specialist's transmission.

Then his attention was drawn to his CMO, who was striding up to them. Ratchet's usually bright chartreuse frame was covered in dull gray ash and streaked grotesquely with various fluids. His expression was equally grim.

Instead of speaking, Ratchet just transmitted a more detailed report on those they had rescued. Optimus received the data with a nod and accessed it. After he had assimilated the report, made all the more painful because of its brevity, he focused back on Ratchet. One survivor had not been included in the report.

The great Autobot leader spoke more calmly than he felt. "What of the Decepticon prisoner?"

Ratchet grimaced, his tone bitter. "He was seriously injured as well, but is not a priority. Not by a _long_ shot. A basic medical scan did confirm his spark signature matches the one on public records as a former enforcer designated Prowl."

Jazz's engine growled darkly under his words. "The tactician who joined Megatron early on." He snorted air through his vents. "Ironic that we actually got our hands on one of the mechs responsible for doing our side tha most harm."

Optimus was silent for a moment, considering the silver saboteur. "You plan on interrogating him personally, then?"

Jazz nodded once, his armor flaring in a way that _almost_ challenged the Prime to contest that plan. "Absolutely. A mech like that can be dangerous. And doubtless he'll know a lot. Can't risk a less experienced mech getting hurt or missin' something important."

"Doubtless," Optimus murmured, wondering briefly if he should be concerned about the prisoner's wellbeing in Jazz's custody. Then he decided he need not be; Jazz was committed to Autobot ideals nearly as strongly as Optimus himself was, even if his function required him to blur the line between right and wrong into gray on a frequent basis. He could trust Jazz to handle himself appropriately.

"Speaking of…" Ratchet intoned darkly, nodding towards the appropriate transport.

Jazz and Optimus turned in tandem to see Ironhide and Drivetrain escort another ash-covered and battered-looking black and white Praxian down the boarding ramp.

The mech carried himself very tightly, his doorwings splayed stiffly but not arrogantly. His bearing was such that, at first glance, it was easy to overlook the obvious damage he had sustained. His movement was almost stately even with his arms bound by stasis cuffs and a limp caused by a damaged knee joint. He did not seem to be fighting the restraints, but that could have been attributable to his injuries, or to the fact that Ironhide was one of the mechs escorting him.

Optimus and his two officers watched silently as the Decepticon paused to glance around before Drivetrain pushed him roughly forward. Interestingly, the black and white mech did not react except to continue walking as he was directed.

_Irony indeed,_ Optimus thought. _That Primus would deliver the orchestrator of so much destruction into our custody._

Irony that such a reputedly skilled tactician would be caught in an attack he had no doubt planned.

Just thinking about the destruction of Praxus, the hundreds of _thousands_ of lives needlessly cut short, stirred the feathering of anger deep within his chassis. Justice against one mech would be a cheap and ineffective solace for those killed this orn.

But it was at least something Optimus _could_ do. It was the only thing.

In many ways, it was a shame. If this mech's skills were such as he had heard, they could have been put to use to _save_ Cybertron rather than destroy it.

Seeing them, Ironhide shoved the Decepticon on his shoulder to change his direction. The joint clearly moved at the contact in a way that was sickeningly unnatural.

Prowl's lip plates curled back in a pained grimace, but he still complied instantly, not even protesting the discomfort. It was a quiescence that was not typical of Decepticon prisoners. But then, Prowl was by far the highest-ranking prisoner they had taken to date.

Then the tactician looked up, deep crimson optics looking first at Jazz, then at Ratchet. Optimus saw the moment that cool, calculating gaze landed on him. Nothing changed outwardly, but the visual contact caused an ill-defined sensation to ripple outward from the Matrix resting against his spark.

He continued to meet Prowl's gaze boldly, knowing that showing any weakness to a Decepticon was a recipe for trouble. Prowl returned his look and though it was so faint Optimus all but dismissed it, he thought he detected equal hints of dread, awe and respect in the red-opticed mech.

Optimus said nothing as Ironhide halted their prisoner, letting the silence grow uncomfortable for the tactician, waiting to see what demands would be made, what threats of revenge might be leveled or even what desperate pleas might come forth.

The Prime took the opportunity to study the mech presented to him like a trophy. He had expected the typical angular, talon-fingered frame most Decepticons preferred. Prowl, however, looked as if he had just stepped out of the Praxian Enforcer Corps' headquarters. Except for the frightfully crimson optics, his frame was not one that screamed danger. It was also clear that Prowl was in complete control of his faculties and that he knew _exactly_ who was confronting him.

Was it possible _that_ was why Prowl said nothing?

Despite what they all expected, Prowl allowed the hostile silence to settle over him completely and without any attempt to break it. Was it a stubborn silence or a respectful one? It was hard to tell past the almost completely impassive mask covering the mech's expressions.

After a few moments, Optimus chose to break the stillness himself. "So, you are Prowl, the infamous and mysterious Decepticon Head Tactician?"

The red-chevroned helm bobbed once: a gesture of respect. "I am."

Prowl's tone was flat, however — almost totally emotionless.

The Matrix whispered to Optimus' spark, but the insight was too vague to be useful. Reminded again of what had happened to Praxus, what had led to this mech standing before him, Optimus let the subsonics of his engine growl. They all knew what _this_ Decepticon had done, as well as many other things he was suspected of doing in his time with Megatron. He was, for all intents and purposes, a war criminal.

"I have heard much about you. Little of it good." Optimus let the depth of his anger only just touch his voice.

The Praxian's frame tensed, his helm snapping back just a fraction of a centimeter. At first Prowl did not respond at all. And then he nodded jerkily, acknowledging the Prime's statement. But that was it.

Optimus drew himself up, drawing on all the authority vested in him as Prime to protect the weak and ensure justice was served. He let his gaze bore into Prowl, for once not caring that the one he was speaking to would feel the brunt of the power he was all too aware he could wield.

"Now you are our prisoner – a prisoner of war." He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "You will be interrogated. After that, depending on our judgment of your behavior, we will decide what to do with you."

Again Optimus expected protests or pleas for mercy. Again there was nothing. Instead, Prowl's helm merely dipped again: respectful acknowledgement.

The optics that turned back up to meet his flickered. Not in anger or hostility, but like a distant echo of the spark-deep pain Optimus himself felt over the fall of Praxus. Then the Decepticon's entire frame shifted. Prowl's gaze averted and his doorwings relaxed submissively. The posture of acceptance. Surrender.

Optimus had seen it in that brief flicker of the Praxian's optics: Prowl was under no illusions as to what his fate would be – or that his interrogation would probably provide the bulk of the evidence against him – and yet something from within his own spark was prompting him to accept that fate without protest.

Within the Prime's chassis, the Matrix whispered again, more strongly this time, but no more easily defined. Knowing he would need time to properly identify the impressions he was receiving and to determine how to incorporate them with wisdom, Optimus said nothing more. Instead he looked at Jazz.

The silver saboteur did not move except to look at Ironhide. "Take him to cell Two-beta."

"You got it." There was satisfaction in Ironhide's tone and Optimus could not blame him. His friend and bodyguard had seen the devastation wrought on Praxus first-hand. It spoke remarkably well of Ironhide's dedication to Autobot principles and ethics that a mech such as Prowl had made it to Iacon alive. The same for all the other mechs on his team. Optimus felt a swell of pride in the mechs serving under him even as Ironhide urged Prowl forward.

Once again, a harsh shove to just the right spot on Prowl's arm had the shoulder joint moving in ways it should not. As close as they were, Optimus could hear clearly the sound of scraping metal and grating gears as well as see the small sparks leaping from the damage as plates and struts ground together.

Just as before, Prowl accepted the direction without protest or complaint, though his denta clenched visibly at the pain Ironhide's push had caused.

Optimus watched them go, his processor whirring. Prowl had not been what he had expected. He was not entirely sure what to think yet. Then, as he saw the hangar door close behind the prisoner and his escorts, he finally identified the impression the Matrix was whispering to his spark concerning Prowl.

It was suddenly so clear he almost recoiled physically. It was so contrary to the way he naturally_ wanted_ to feel toward the Decepticon that he almost discounted it entirely.

It was conditional approval… and hope.

… … …

Hope.

Optimus sat at the desk in his office, watching as Jazz walked up to the captured Decepticon, still trying to puzzle over why _hope_ would be the Matrix's impression of this particular prisoner.

According to the data feeds coming out of the cell, Prowl had been left there for an entire orn. In that time, apparently he had not moved. True, Optimus knew he was magnetically locked to the interrogation stool and that his arms were still bound by stasis cuffs, but the mech had not even looked around.

This was the first time he had had any contact with another living being for an entire orn and he was seriously injured. The whole situation made Optimus uneasy, even knowing who Prowl was. Even so, he understood that fuel deprivation was one of the kinder methods of making a mech more willing to cooperate, especially because he knew that while uncomfortable, Prowl's fuel levels were by no means life-threatening.

He waited to see what his reaction would be to Jazz.

But just as before, Prowl said nothing until Jazz explained what was going to happen, and then merely inquired what Jazz was looking for. It was a reasonable question and not asked with defiance.

However, the Prime's optics widened when he saw Prowl slide aside the armor covering his dataport. That action made Optimus lean fractionally forward in his chair. Once more, the black and white prisoner did not move or otherwise react except to wince as Jazz slid his cable home.

An entry ping at his door distracted Optimus and he looked up, granting entry.

Ratchet walked in, his finish glistening under the lights, the medic having found a few extra breems at some point to wash the muck from the ruins of Praxus off his armor. While not pleased, Ratchet's demeanor was noticeably less grim.

"Good news?" Optimus asked his CMO.

"Everyone is stable, and will make a full recovery," Ratchet reported with a weary release of air through his vents. "The only exception is the little blue and gray sparkling. Jazz and the others have taken to calling him Bluestreak, a designation he seems more than willing to answer to. He is generally cooperative enough and reasonably active considering his age but… He is not letting any of the mechs or femmes he's come into contact with act as a true caretaker/guardian."

"Ironhide's report indicated Bluestreak, if that is what he will be called, had already formed an attachment to Prowl," Optimus noted softly.

Ratchet grimaced. "So I understand. I just don't know how to convince the little guy that Prowl is not an option." Ratchet paused, looking at his leader carefully. "He _isn't_ an option, right?"

"It is doubtful," Optimus replied.

"You know what that mech did." Ratchet growled, his armor flaring. "Even the Decepticons didn't intentionally target medics until _he_ gave the order. Primus knows what _else_ he is responsible for. Praxus…"

"Jazz will no doubt find out," Optimus cut in, gently cutting off the beginning of Ratchet's angry rant with a small gesture to the screen.

Ratchet immediately fell silent, turning in the indicated direction. "He's interrogating the mech now?"

Optimus nodded even as Ratchet was already moving closer to the screen for a better look. Releasing a soft sigh of air through his vents, Optimus also turned his attention back to the terminal.

He did so just in time to hear Prowl demand, with subdued bitterness, to know why Jazz was giving him the opportunity to do 'exactly that.' Whatever 'that' was, the two observing mechs had missed in the course of their own conversation and neither wanted to miss the moment by replaying the recordings.

"_Excuse me?"_ Jazz's incredulous question matched the feeling Optimus had at Prowl's angry statement.

"_I know your reputation, Autobot Jazz. I know you are wasting time right now." _ Optimus expected the long-awaited demand to come and he was shocked at what the demand actually was when it did come. _"You have a job to do. Why do you not just do it?"_

Optimus glanced up at Ratchet to see the medic was just as surprised as he. Prowl was all but demanding Jazz complete the interrogation. What Decepticon in his right mind _wanted_ to have his interrogation completed?

"_Ya like the pain, then?"_ Jazz demanded, though there was more shock than heat in his tone.

"_This is a one-way __**hack,**__ Autobot. A deep processor scan. There is no way to avoid the pain inherent in such things. If it is going to happen, I would rather not drag it out."_ Optimus blinked. The statement had an element of grim logic to it that somehow did not seem out of character with the little he had witnessed of the seemingly emotionless tactician.

"_What if __**I**__ preferred to drag it out?"_ Jazz asked, his hand tightening on the damage done to Prowl's shoulder, his optics flashing dangerously.

Optimus' vents stilled as he waited, worried briefly, though he trusted Jazz And, he reminded himself, this _was _Prowl. A war criminal. He did not need to be coddled. And it looked as if the long-awaited defiance was about to show itself as Prowl continued to glare up at Jazz.

And then, in the blink of an optic shutter, all defiance left the Decepticon's frame. Just as in the hangar, his gaze dropped and his posture became that of surrender and acceptance of the inevitable.

"_Very well. Do what you wish."_

Optimus sensed there was more in that statement than just the granting of permission Jazz in no way needed to do his job as he saw fit. And just as before, the Prime knew, where the Matrix brushed his spark, that Prowl's submission was done with full understanding of what it might mean. Of what it would inevitably mean. Prowl knew his own execution could – and likely would – be ordered based on the evidence Jazz was obtaining right now.

This interrogation was not just to retrieve valuable intelligence, but to provide a legal case against him. And it was clear he expected no reprieve from that fate.

_He hardly deserves a reprieve_, Optimus thought silently to himself even though he felt the Matrix whisper its disagreement and grieve at his stubbornness.

Hope.

The Matrix was still whispering to him that there was hope, not only _for_ Prowl, but _because_ of him. It was confusing and frustrating. And, if Optimus was honest with himself, downright irritating. But he was a Prime and it was his duty to use the Matrix to help him lead with wisdom. And the Matrix wanted him to find a way to save Prowl's life.

"Amazing," Ratchet murmured quietly from beside him.

"What?" Optimus asked his CMO, glancing away from the screen he was not really seeing any more anyway.

"Prowl… He... I don't think he was resisting Jazz at all." Ratchet was staring wide-opticed at the screen.

"How can you say that?" Optimus asked.

"He isn't acting like he was fragmented," Ratchet replied, clinical coolness returning instantly as he straightened. "If a mech puts up any real resistance to a scan, it's inevitable that _something_ gets fragmented. But he isn't showing any of the signs."

"Curious," Optimus confirmed, still watching carefully as Jazz finished and pulled out his cord. "Something Jazz should be able to confirm easily enough."

Ratchet just harrumphed and then his armor sagged. "I guess I'll need to fix him soon." Then he eyed Optimus. "But if he's going to be tried and executed for his crimes, I guess there isn't a need for that."

The Matrix within his chassis reacted strongly to Ratchet's sentiment. "Let us see what Jazz reports. I sense that there is something… different about this Decepticon."

Ratchet eyed him speculatively. "You're the Prime."

It was all Optimus got, but he knew Ratchet enough to know it was his way of noting his disagreement while at the same time recognizing and deferring to the fact that Prime was a leader he trusted.

On the screen, Jazz was reclaiming the now empty energon cube – which Prowl surrendered without fuss – and re-securing the prisoner's arm. The black and white mech winced, but that was all, even though his damaged shoulder moved painfully.

Neither of the observing mechs missed the fact that the bound and badly injured Decepticon actually _thanked_ Jazz. That had never happened to the Prime's knowledge and, judging by the way Jazz just stared at the tactician, he was equally caught off guard.

"He does seem rather… accepting about his fate," Ratchet murmured. "Perhaps seeing his own city destroyed around him managed to open his optics to what he's done. Perhaps."

"Perhaps indeed," Optimus agreed, just as his entry request chime sounded. Prowl had yet to move from the position he had assumed just after Jazz had left him. Absently, trying to determine what would be the just and right thing to do, he granted entry to the requesting mech.

Not surprisingly, it was Jazz.

The silver saboteur sauntered around the Prime's desk with his usual grace and joined them at the monitor, watching the Praxian.

"So, you watched tha whole thing?" Jazz asked, not sounding a bit defensive.

"Indeed," Optimus rumbled thoughtfully, considering what he had seen, what he was still seeing. "He seemed remarkably compliant."

Jazz nodded and when he stepped back, Optimus turned away from the screen as well, aware that Ratchet did likewise. "Oh, he was. Didn't even fight me at all. And I can tell ya he would have been able to give me one pit of a fight if he wanted to."

"Oh?" Ratchet quirked an optic ridge, his voice rough with concern. "How so?"

Jazz shrugged. "I found evidence of Soundwave's attempts to meddle. He was taking them apart on his own."

Optimus found his own optics widening at that. While he did not have first-hand experience with the telepath, he was familiar enough with his abilities that he knew it was a rare thing for a mech to be able to counter him. He was aware of Ratchet verbalizing his own incredulity.

"Apparently. To a degree at least," Jazz confirmed, lip plates pressed together grimly.

Watching his head of Special Operations, Optimus was struck with the feeling that Jazz had something he felt duty-bound to report but was not truly wanting to. The longer Jazz argued with Ratchet, the stronger that feeling became. So Optimus finally decided to end the argument and redirect the conversation.

"We do trust you." He shot a look at Ratchet, communicating silently not to pursue the matter further, and refocused on Jazz. "What did you find?"

Instead of answering immediately, Jazz sighed a long vent of air and looked back at the screen, watching the Decepticon prisoner. He stared at the monitor silently for a long moment, long enough for Optimus and Ratchet to exchange a concerned look over the smaller mech's helm. This quiet seriousness was not the front Jazz put forth most of the time.

Just when Optimus was going to ask if he was all right, suddenly worried that Ratchet might have been right to question the matter, Jazz spoke. His gaze did not lift from the screen. "I learned everything we wanted to know about the 'Cons. As well as a lot of stuff we_ needed_ to know about our own forces. It was, after all, his job to analyze our strengths and weaknesses and to exploit them… which he did very well."

Only then did Jazz look up at him. "Now we know where at least some of their intelligence agents are, their identities, as well as all the 'Cons' base locations an' security codes. I also know which of _our_ intelligence agents are compromised. And that is just the beginning."

Jazz shook his helm and looked back at the monitor, speaking even more quietly. "I tell ya, it was like a high-quality energon mine and he _let_ me pick it clean."

Optimus stared at Jazz. So the image on the screen had not lied; Prowl _had_ cooperated. That was interesting to say the least, but that did not account for… for what? He peered at Jazz carefully and could see that Jazz was not finished and yet he did not really want to continue.

Removing some of the pressure from the silver saboteur, Optimus also lowered his gaze to the screen. "Anything else?"

Jazz released another vent of air as if steeling himself. Then he nodded firmly. "Yeah." He looked up at Optimus, optics glowing brightly behind his visor. "I think he might be willing to defect."

… … …

Jazz's words echoed in Optimus' processor as he made his way down to the interrogation cell Prowl was being held in.

"… _in his processor, the only thing he was expecting was a brutal interrogation and he was __**still**__ determined to give me what I was looking for – even if he didn't survive the experience." Jazz's expression had been troubled. "And I can tell ya, he lowered his firewalls for me thinking it might be the last thing he might ever be able to consciously do."_

If that was true, and he had no reason to doubt Jazz's judgment, it said a lot about Prowl.

Perhaps, as the Matrix had whispered, there was hope that this mech was not beyond redemption.

"Do you think he will defect?" Ratchet asked softly. "Do you really think he deserves the opportunity?"

Optimus looked at his CMO. "You will be conducting the second scan to determine that."

Ratchet cast him a look. "You know I, of all mechs, have enough reason _not_ to want him to have a second chance."

The Prime could see the anger his friend struggled to subdue. He spoke gently, touching Ratchet's arm encouragingly. "I also know you are a professional and are able to do your job objectively."

Ratchet released a heavy ex-vent. "I'm not sure I _want_ to be objective in this… But… I will not disappoint you, Optimus."

Optimus smiled gently. "I know."

They walked in silence after that, each one absorbed in his own thoughts, until they paused outside the cell Prowl was being held in. The Prime glanced at his CMO, who hesitated and then nodded his readiness.

As their visit was technically so that Ratchet could treat Prowl's injuries and evaluate his potential as a possible defector, the Prime gestured the chartreuse medic to precede him.

Prowl looked up as they entered and Optimus caught the widening of those crimson optics, but when the Prime halted just inside the door as Ratchet continued to move forward, the Decepticon's attention shifted to the medic.

Optimus saw the injured Praxian stiffen as a detailed medical scan washed over his frame. He could also see the carefully hidden fear that tensed Prowl's spinal struts even further as Ratchet moved forward to reach for his damaged shoulder. He realized then that Prowl knew Ratchet had no reason to be kind to him and, more than that, he knew why.

And yet, judging by the way the Praxian's optics dropped submissively before Ratchet's hands actually made contact with his frame, Prowl did not seem inclined to protest whatever the medic might do to him. Prowl grunted as Ratchet started his work, but never did he even attempt to avoid the hands that were causing him additional discomfort.

As Ratchet continued, Prowl's silence persisted. Even when Ratchet had to straighten a damaged strut, the only thing Prowl did was grimace, his doorwings twitching in a wince. But he did nothing else. He made no verbal retort or angry tirade nor offered any pleas for mercy. He just accepted what was done to him in silence.

It was just as Jazz had described. And it was very un-Decepticon-like.

Seeing what he wanted for the moment, Optimus broke the tense silence. "What are your expectations as to what happens now, Decepticon Prowl?"

It might have just been Optimus' imagination, but he thought he saw the Praxian wince at the title of 'Decepticon.' But it could have also been something Ratchet had done. Regardless, Prowl shifted his attention to Optimus, though he did not quite meet the Prime's gaze.

"I am your prisoner." His voice was calm and resigned. "I have no other expectations."

It was a simple statement, but it confirmed that sense Optimus had had back in the hangar that Prowl was under no illusions as to his fate.

He blinked at that statement of stoic acceptance, glancing at Ratchet to see the CMO was also caught off guard. He looked back at Prowl quickly. "Jazz mentioned you had an interest in ensuring Megatron is stopped."

Prowl gave another tiny, almost imperceptible nod. "If he continues down this path unchecked, the consequences for Cybertron will be devastating."

Prowl might have said more, but he fell silent, visibly stiffening again as Ratchet moved to his back to work on his injured doorwing. Because he was watching the Praxian so closely, Optimus saw hints of raw fear flash behind those red optics as Ratchet immobilized Prowl's doorwings and yet he still did not protest.

Understanding the mech's distress, but not really inclined to ease it, Optimus moved on to his next concern, curious as to how the Decepticon would continue the conversation.

"You understand it is difficult not to be suspicious of suddenly having the Decepticon's lead tactician show up wanting to defeat Megatron." Optimus let his engine rumble unhappily at the all too coincidental fact.

Prowl did not answer immediately. When he did, his voice was still just as calm and even as it had been. "You are right to be suspicious."

"I also find it suspicious that you were at Praxus when the city was attacked." Optimus kept his own voice bland, though he knew his optics flashed with silent warning. Again he let the full force of his authority bore into the injured mech sitting cuffed and restrained to the interrogation stool in front of him.

Prowl met his gaze but for a moment before he nodded once, accepting that suspicion without attempting to mitigate it. "I believe now that my presence in Praxus during the attack was intentional, based on what the Air Commander told me after the attack was launched."

"What did Starscream say?" Optimus asked, frowning faintly.

Prowl released a vent of air as Ratchet did something to his doorwing, though he continued to provide his answer as if he were delivering an official report. "He said it was too bad because I was Praxian and that no Praxian was to be left alive."

Megatron truly had intended to eradicate an entire city and those native to that city. Optimus's optics narrowed as disgust and fury towards the former Lord Protector flashed through him.

"You claim Megatron sent you into Praxus to kill you?" he demanded.

"That is the most likely scenario I have been able to postulate," Prowl answered, his voice a hint meeker in response to the Prime's growing agitation, though Optimus did not notice that yet.

Optimus' gaze unfocused briefly as he tried to think of what he might have been able to do to prevent Megatron from going this far. But he could find nothing and his irritation swiftly found a new target. He might not have been able to stop Megatron, but it was very likely that without the mech now sitting in front of him, Megatron would not have been able to succeed.

"If that is so, it would seem he does not value your life very highly," he told Prowl with a low rev of his engine.

Ratchet moved around to work on Prowl's leg, but the Praxian did not let his attention waver from the Prime as his armor clenched tightly to his frame. "Sir, Megatron holds very little value for any life other than his own."

There might have been a fleeting touch of bitterness in that voice, but Optimus was not sure. All he saw, despite the insistent whispers of the Matrix, was a mech who had gone to Megatron knowing what he was. That did not indicate a spark that they would ever be able to trust within the Autobot ranks.

"Why did you become a Decepticon, then?" he demanded.

For the first time, Optimus saw hesitation in those red optics. It was not resistance, just hesitation, and instantly Optimus understood. Prowl was very much aware of the narrow precipice over which his life hung and realized that his answer to that question might plunge him off the edge.

The Prime waited, letting Prowl figure out how he wanted to answer. He did not have to wait long and the answer came with a vent of air and lowered optics.

"A prolonged war would have devastating effects on Cybertron. With the Militia and the Seekers aligning with Megatron the statistical probability indicated that he would be in a better position to win the war quickly and thus rapidly put an end to hostility, thereby preserving the existence of our race."

It was so coldly logical it made Optimus' internals clench. But Prowl was not finished as he dipped his helm. "I joined the Decepticons because I knew my ability with tactical planning would even more greatly increase those odds and thereby bring an even quicker end to the conflict and thus spare as many innocents as possible."

Optimus did not respond immediately, looking at Prowl, studying him. It sounded so clinical, so reasonable that it was tank-churning. Except for one blinding detail.

"Megatron is not interested in sparing innocent lives." His voice was harsher than he had intended it to be.

Instead of defending his choice or attempting to justify his decision further, Prowl bowed his helm in humble acknowledgement. "That point has been made abundantly clear in a very painful manner, Prime."

The soft, clearly pained answer served to snap Optimus out of his own pre-conceived assumptions about the mech in front of him. And for the first time, he did not see just Megatron's lead tactician, but an injured mech who had just been betrayed by his leader and had just survived the destruction of his home and the massacre of hundreds of thousands.

"Yes. I imagine so."

Prowl glanced up with obvious surprise and Optimus realized the Decepticon had expected another harsh retort or accusation.

Finding he was once again more open to the Matrix's impressions, Optimus could not ignore the soft prods of that ancient relic and he let his own gaze ensnare the Praxian's. "If you were given the opportunity to assist in putting a stop to Megatron's forces, what would you do?"

This time Prowl's hesitation was one of compounding shock rather than fear. "You mean defect?"

Optimus merely nodded and suddenly found himself the object of intense perusal. Prowl was studying him carefully with open wariness as if not trusting that the offer was genuine. Optimus, on the other hand, merely waited to see what the Decepticon's response would be, continuing to meet the Praxian's gaze.

Finally, Prowl spoke carefully, hesitantly. "That is a very dangerous offer for you to make, Prime. If I were still loyal to Megatron…"

Optimus cut him off, in no mood to be lectured by a Decepticon. "What if you were given the choice?"

Prowl muted his vocalizer, his doorwings twitching in a way that indicated he recognized the rebuke. His voice, when he spoke again, was still carefully hesitant but also a hint apologetic. "If you can prove to your satisfaction that I am no threat to you or the Autobot cause, then I will assist in whatever capacity you allow."

Optimus was careful not to let his own surprise show on his faceplate. That was not the typical acceptance statement they received from defecting mechs. As Ironhide had reported, Prowl's primary interest appeared not to be his own wellbeing, but that of others: in this case, the Autobots as a whole.

Even so, he knew better than to lower his guard with this particular mech. "It will not be easy, proving to us you are honest and sincere in changing your allegiance. Some may never trust you completely. Your existence among us will probably not be pleasant, at least at first."

To his credit, Prowl did not argue that point. He nodded once with acceptance.

Ratchet stepped forward, drawing the prisoner's red gaze. Optimus could see concerned resignation in every line of his friend's posture.

"Very well," Ratchet stated. "I will also be conducting a deep processor scan. However, whereas Jazz was specifically looking for information about Decepticons, I will be examining you personally: your character, ethics and motivations. Unlike Jazz's scan, you do have a choice in whether or not you submit to this one. However, failure to submit will be seen as a refusal to defect and you will be treated accordingly. The choice is yours."

It was a very invasive and potentially humiliating examination that Ratchet would be performing. Optimus knew that, and it was clear by the way that Prowl stiffened that he knew it as well. That he did not answer immediately was actually a good sign, in the Prime's estimation.

When Prowl finally spoke again, it was directed toward Ratchet. "Such a precaution is only logical."

Ratchet blinked, clearly taken off guard. Optimus could hear the surprised incredulity in the CMO's voice when he answered, even if it was couched in professional tones. "You are agreeing to undergo this deep processor scan of your own free will?"

Prowl answered in similarly formal tones, though Optimus thought he caught a hint of trepidation there as well. "Yes, I am."

Ratchet nodded, looking up at Optimus. It was both a silent reminder that he was not truly unbiased in the matter and a request for permission to continue. Optimus nodded, granting the latter and acknowledging the former.

After a moment's hesitation, Prowl willingly granted access to his port yet again.

Ratchet's optics widened merely an astrosecond after he connected. "Jazz was not exaggerating. Those are impressive firewalls."

Tellingly, Prowl averted his gaze, lowering it non-threateningly. Optimus suspected the grimace he saw was Prowl lowering those firewalls. "A necessity when dealing with Soundwave and, for someone in my position, should I ever be captured by enemies."

Ratchet eyed him, doubtless catching the unspoken implication in those words just as Optimus had. Prowl's refusal to use his defenses indicated he did not want to see his captors as the enemy any longer.

"Of course," Ratchet acknowledged, then shifted his weight as he focused his processor on his task.

While Ratchet worked, Optimus watched Prowl carefully. Just as with Jazz, Prowl kept his gaze lowered, his doorwings tucked fractionally. The only overt reaction the Praxian allowed himself was the occasional grimace. Half a breem into the scan, Prowl also shuttered his optics in time with a wince though Prowl did not otherwise respond to whatever he was feeling.

Halfway through the scan, movement on Ratchet's part attracted Optimus' attention. The cool, borderline hostile, though carefully composed and formal expression had shifted to one of surprise and mild chagrin. The Prime was further taken aback when Ratchet actually inserted a pain chip into Prowl's port as he withdrew his cord.

The Decepticon's quiet "Thank you, sir" made both Autobots blink.

Ratchet nodded acknowledgement of the Decepticon's gratitude and then looked at Optimus. _/His reasons for joining the Decepticons were just as he stated them. So was his reason for leaving. No, he had nothing to do with what happened to Praxus and is honestly as much of a victim of that assault as the rest of the survivors./_

_/Did he resist you at all?/_ Optimus asked.

_/No. Nothing. Dropped his fragging firewalls, just like Jazz stated and then didn't even complain __**mentally**__ when I went digging through his processor./_ A hint of wry self-depreciation filtered through the medic's mental tone. _/I didn't bother being gentle either. He could tell I was looking for something to condemn him with – and I was – and even then he let me take whatever I wanted to. He was scared, but in his mind he had agreed to the scan, so he didn't even try to protect himself./_

Optimus was silent, knowing that Ratchet was not finished. After a moment the CMO continued. _/He doesn't expect me to recommend you accept his defection and he doesn't blame us for hating and condemning him for what he __**has**__ done. He still expects to be either stasis-locked or off-lined permanently… and he won't contest or resist if you choose to do either. Your offer surprised him and actually worries him. __**He's**__ not sure he can be trusted right now and neither am I because of Soundwave. But… he is truly dedicated to defeating Megatron now and I doubt he will do anything against us so long as he knows there will be consequences./_

_/Yes?/ _Optimus encouraged when Ratchet hesitated, clearly resisting what he knew he should say.

Ratchet released a vent of air. _/He would rather die than further the Decepticon cause again. If he can adapt to Autobot ethical principles, rules and regulations, then he has the potential to become one of the few defectors we will ever be able to trust completely./_

Optimus considered those words. _/Then you __**would**__ recommend we accept his defection?/_

_/As much as I don't want to… yes./ _Ratchet transmitted the equivalent of a rueful grimace. _/While it will take time, I… I do believe he can be redeemed. And he could be a real asset to our side. I would be careful about him though./_

Optimus nodded and then looked at Prowl, who was obviously aware his fate had been discussed in front of him and yet was silently awaiting their verdict.

After a moment he stepped forward to address their prisoner and Ratchet yielded him that position. "Based on the report Ratchet just made, I am prepared to move forward with integrating you into our forces, on a probationary status."

Prowl's optics shot up to his in evident shock; then they grew more calculating. "What are the conditions?"

Prime considered Prowl carefully as he spoke, gauging Prowl's reactions. "We have never had a Decepticon of your rank defect before, so the conditions we place on you will have to be appropriately more severe."

Prowl merely nodded, waiting to hear what those conditions would be. So Optimus began listing them, starting with the most invasive ones – the ones more likely to garner objections. And yet Prowl offered none; he simply acknowledged them with acceptance, so Optimus continued.

Then Ratchet took over and explained the integration process, after which Prowl was silent as he considered their words. Optimus expected some attempt to negotiate; it was an expected part of such a discussion.

After nearly a quarter-breem hesitation, Prowl looked back up, meeting the Prime's gaze with surprising boldness. "Your terms are agreed to. With two modifications."

Optimus felt his optics widen with surprise, even as Ratchet's engine growled and he leaned forward to loom over the bound prisoner. "You are in no position to make demands!"

Prowl glanced at the CMO warily, then shifted his gaze back to Optimus. His tone was subdued but still insistent. "First, leave whatever tracking device you utilize in place until the conclusion of my entire probationary period."

That… wait. Optimus blinked.

That was not an attempt to negotiate better conditions for himself. Rather, Prowl was addressing what he felt was a security concern for _them_. He was negotiating _against_ himself. Optimus listened as Prowl hastily explained his reasoning and it was all painfully logical. As was his second 'demand,' which was to leave the tracer coding – programming designed to put a mech into stasis and alert the proper authorities if it detected any intentionally malicious planning – in place indefinitely.

Everything Prowl had stated made sense, but Optimus was not convinced he should leave it like that as past experience had made it clear that easy capitulation to Decepticons' 'requests' resulted in a loss of respect that inevitably had to be dealt with later.

Optimus nodded slowly. "Very well. I will take your recommendations into consideration. For now, Ratchet will take you to the med bay for the necessary installations."

Prowl blinked, but he nodded. "Understood, sir."

At Optimus' gesture, Ratchet moved forward almost defensively. Nonetheless, the magnetic field restraining Prowl to the stool deactivated with a low buzz as the locks disengaged. Prowl did not move, not even an involuntary twitch, and it was a clear indication he had not been resisting the magnetic field holding him in place.

With a soft release of air, Ratchet then moved forward to remove the stasis cuffs, though Optimus could tell from the flare of his armor that he was prepared for a violent reaction if necessary.

As if sensing the CMO's suspicions, Prowl did not allow his position to change at all until Ratchet had stepped back. Then, very slowly, as if to prove he was not a threat, he allowed his arms to ease into a more normal position. Once there, the tactician looked at them again, as if evaluating their reactions to his movements.

One would have thought Ironhide was pointing his cannons at the mech given how carefully he then pushed himself to his pedes, straightening to his full height. His body language and the very subtle flare of his EM field all but screamed, "I am not a threat."

After a moment Ratchet shook his helm and gestured to the door of the cell. "Well, let's stop wasting time. Come with me."

Optimus watched them go, noting how Prowl moved with careful reserve around Ratchet, as if afraid to set him off. As distressing as seeing that type of behavior in any other mech would be, Optimus thought it was a good sign.

Prowl knew he was not trusted and likely would not be for some time to come. And he was making necessary adjustments in his behavior to accommodate that reality and all without seeming resentment. That could change, Optimus knew, but for now he found that he was, for the first time, feeling the same thing the Matrix had been sharing with him.

Hope.

* * *

_I would like to take a moment to offer my sincerest thanks and appreciation to __**nebroadwe**__ who was kind enough to look over and edit what you have just read. Any remaining grammatical mistakes are my own and I can't say enough as to how grateful I am for the assistance._

_Please let me know what you think… I feed off of reviews, after all. :D _

_And before you ask, yes, I am still working on the next chapter for __**Turning Points.**_


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